Snow
by glassangelrose
Summary: Best friends Amelia and Damien are thrust into the Nightworld after an eventful night at a club, where they become entangled in a complicated family drama playing out on the Island of Alstonia. As forbidden love interests develop and dark intentions are revealed, the danger grows. Can love still prevail when everything around it is falling apart?
1. Music

**Okay, heres my new story. Hope you like it :D **

**Thanks to my Beta: TheBrightestNight. Youre awesome.**

**Annnnnd thanks to Victoria, for all your help :) you have amazing patience for my crazy perfectionist tendencies. So thank you. :P And youre a really cool person, just btw.**

Amelia gazed out at the crowd and took a deep breath as she raised the violin up to her shoulder. The bright stage lights set her skin on fire, and made it impossible to see farther than the stage pit. Even though she knew it was only a crowd of about thirty people, she still couldn't help but feel nervous. Beads of sweat glistened on the brim of her forehead; her muscles were buzzing with anticipation and her stomach was a swarm of anxious butterflies. She never liked playing for an audience.

With another deep breath, she closed her eyes and raised her bow up to the strings. She imagined she was somewhere else—anywhere else besides this pulsing, claustrophobic club downtown. Somewhere where there was nothing but miles of open space, and a fresh breeze;a place where she could believe in impossibilities, where freedom was just a step away, and there was nothing to hold her back…

Her heart calmed to a steady rhythm as her mind took her elsewhere. She struck the first note, and then the second. The music began to pour out of her; as the notes fell against the ears of those in the club, the crowd silenced. All of their attention was focused on the tall, pale girl with the animated blue eyes. Her long and skinny fingers danced across the strings, seemingly of their own accord. Her lips were pressed thin, eyes fluttering slightly, as her body swayed and moved with the rhythm of the music. She was in a place of eternal beauty and escape, and Amelia wished she could stay in it forever.

Damien loved the way she looked when she played; the way her cheeks smoothed of all their normal tension, and how her breath became soft and steady, as if her soul were centering, her world balancing itself. For those few moments when her soul became entangled with her music, she was at peace.

He had been her best friend since sixth grade, and he had attended every one of her performances over the years. And yet, each performance still left him breathless and vulnerable. He wondered if he would ever become immune to such beauty.

Amelia struck the last note, and Damien watched as her posture stiffened once again, transforming back into her normal, conserved self. She opened her eyes, and locked gazes with Damien from across the room. He lifted his lips into a lopsided grin, and she smiled back. She hopped off the stage, not bothering to use the stairs and began packing up her stuff. The crowd stood stunned for a moment, the remnants of the last note still hanging in the air. Damien watched as they snapped back to reality, the dazed look dissipating from their eyes, as the tinny noise of the club slowly seeped back into their consciousness. As always, the crowd was disappointed to be awakened from Amelia's song. They slowly began to file out of the club, or turn back to their drinks. Damien pushed his way through the crowd and came up behind her.

"Good job," he said. "Is that a new piece?"

"Yeah," Amelia replied. "I wrote it last night, at about one in the morning."

Damien nodded. That wasn't surprising—Amelia usually did her best work in the dead of night. She claimed it was the stars and the cool air that inspired her, but Damien suspected it had more to do with the feeling of loneliness that night brought. All of her songs had a sort of melancholy feeling underlying them, like she had some sort of deep pain blossoming inside her that could only be expressed through her music.

Damien watched as she finished packing up. She was wearing a pair of dark washed, ripped jeans, and a black band tee shirt. Her dark, straight, shoulder-length brown hair fell in choppy layers around her delicate heart shaped face.

_It's no wonder she had all these admirers after her all the time_, Damien thought, momentarily stunned by her image, _she's beautiful_.

"Ready?" Amelia asked.

"Yeah," Damien said distractedly, his eyes lingering on her face. He loved the way she looked after a performance, the way her cheeks flushed and her hair was slightly ruffled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes narrowed with suspicion, as if she could read his thoughts.

Damien broke his gaze, and his eyes snapped to the ground. "Let's go," he said, somewhat curtly.

Amelia sighed, and ignored his moodiness. She hoisted a messenger bag filled with music sheets and a few school books over her shoulder, one hand clasping her violin case. She nodded towards the door, motioning for him to go first.

They had barely taken two steps before Amelia felt a hand on her shoulder. She whipped around, alarmed. She never liked being touched.

"Sorry to startle you, Miss," said a man who looked about nineteen years of age. He smiled charmingly, and removed his hand from her shoulder. Amelia tried not to squirm under his gaze. She looked him over slowly; she determined he was the type of guy most girls would find attractive, with his long, curling golden blonde hair, boyish features, and thickly lashed brown eyes. He was tall and thin too, with a cocky smile and expensive clothes.

"Nice performance," he said, flashing another charming smile.

"Thanks," Amelia replied frostily. She didn't like conversing with strangers. Damien took a step closer to her. There was something off about this man.

The man kept on smiling, seemingly oblivious to the tension between him and Amelia.

"You want another gig?" He asked.

Amelia shrugged. She was almost always up for more playing time, but her gut was telling her to play it cool.

"I work at this club. It's called the Black Dahlia, you heard of it?" The man arched an eyebrow.

"No," Amelia replied curtly, "what about it?"

"My manger and I want you to play there tomorrow. We think you'd be a great addition to the club, and really enhance the atmosphere," he said.

Amelia didn't like the way his eyes glimmered with a sort of superiority, the egotistical tone of his voice. She never had much patience for people who raised themselves up on a pedestal. "No thanks," Amelia said brusquely, turning to leave. Damien followed her lead.

"We're willing to pay you very well," the man promised, his voice cutting through the din of the club.

Those words stopped Amelia in her tracks. She slowly pivoted around, facing him again, interest piqued. "How much?" she asked, her bright blue eyes fixed on him.

"Two thousand dollars," he replied with a smirk, as if he knew how much she needed the money.

Amelia hesitantly took a step closer. "Would I get it in cash?"

"Right after the performance," the man assured.

Amelia looked at him skeptically. "Let me see it," she demanded.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stash of bills, and held one up to the light to prove its authenticity.

Amelia chewed on her bottom lip, thinking for a moment. Finally she announced, "We'll be there. What time?"

"Seven o'clock," the man said. His eyes glinted with something Amelia couldn't quite put her finger on. "Don't be late."

Amelia nodded. The man brushed past her, bumping her shoulder in the process, and exited the shop.

"Well, he was sketchy," Damien commented once the man was out of earshot, staring after him suspiciously.

"Yeah," Amelia agreed, heading towards the door. Damien hurried to keep up with her brisk pace.

"Maybe we shouldn't do the gig," Damien said after a moment of silence, holding open the door for Amelia.

"Damien," she said, with a sigh, pausing in the doorway. She adjusted the messenger bag she had slung over her shoulder. "We need the money. Two thousand dollars…. that would easily pay for our plane tickets."

Damien ran his fingers through his short black hair agitatedly. "I know," he admitted, "But I'm worried about you. I don't want you going to that club alone." His coal black eyes looked down at her.

"We don't really have any other options, Damien. We're trapped," She reminded him gently. "We need that money. Besides, I have a black belt, remember?" Amelia reminded him loftily.

Damien rolled his eyes. He hated how casual Amelia sounded, how she didn't even seem to care about her own welfare; as long as it was for the 'greater good', she was willing to do whatever she had to—even if it meant harming herself.

"He's a lot bigger than you, Amelia," he reminded her tightly. "And stronger."

Amelia turned to look at him. She studied him for a moment, and then came to a conclusion. "He's not much bigger than you."

"So?" Damien asked. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"I've kicked your ass before," Amelia reminded him, flashing a lopsided grin. "I can kick his."

"That's different," Damien argued. "What if he has back up?"

"He probably does," Amelia admitted, her face becoming serious once again. "We should bring some too."

"Who?" Damien asked, curious.

"I was thinking Matt and Ryan," Amelia said slowly. "I know you don't like them very much, but they owe me one."

Damien stiffened, but he knew she was right. He could put up with those two jerks for one night if it meant Amelia would be safe. "Alright."

She exited the club, goose bumps pricking her skin as cool autumn air rushed by, and made her way over to her dented Honda Civic.

Damien helped her load the equipment into the truck.

Amelia got in the driver's seat and started the engine. Damien slide in beside her. Amelia looked out on the road, and smiled softly to herself. If everything went as planned, they would be free by this time tomorrow. The thought sent sparks of hope zinging through her body, and she whispered the word softly to herself. _Free. _She couldn't wait.

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :) hope you liked it.**


	2. Chance

**Heres the next chapter. Im sorry it took so long to update, but the next chapter should be up within a few days :)**

**As always, thanks to my lovely Beta: TheBrightestNight.**

**Enjoy :D**

Amaranth stared at his smooth, pale trembling hands in disbelief and fear; it was not something that he had thought possible—a vampire dying from a terminal illness—and yet here he was, doomed to a slow and painful death. He couldn't pin point exactly what he was dying from, but he felt it all over his body; his joints ached, his stomach churned at the sight of blood, and about once a month he would experience a gut wrenching pain in his chest which would cause him to writhe in agony for hours. He was miserable and desperate. He knew he did not have much time left; according to a wise Circle Twilight witch, the tremors were the beginning of loss of muscle control. After that, he would be unable to feed or swallow blood. He would die in torturous thirst unless he was able to find a cure within the next month.

It had all started about a year ago when he had deeply insulted a hot-tempered Circle Midnight witch with a massive amount of power. He would have never guessed that invoking her revenge could be so devastating.

The study door creaked open, and Amaranth's head shot up. His wife, Ciardha slipped in, and approached him, a smirk playing on her lips. She sauntered over to him and plopped herself down in his lap.

"How's my little sweetie-pie today?" she cooed, pinching his cheeks, comically imitating ridiculous shows of human affection.

Amaranth slapped her hand away from his cheek, but let her stay in his lap. Ciardha gave a fake whimper and pouted.

"That's no way to treat a caring wife," Ciardha said.

Amaranth rolled his eyes. Ciardha had always been like this; she found it amusing to pretend that they actually cared for each other. She liked the irony of it.

"What do you want?" he demanded. He didn't have the patience to indulge in her antics today.

"No dear," she said, the smirk growing. "What do _you_ want?" She laughed at Amaranth's frustrated expression.

Amaranth glared down at her, but her smirk didn't waver. Her blue eyes danced with contained laughter.

Amaranth sighed sharply, agitated. "I don't have time for your childish games, Ciardha. In case you forgot, I am currently dying," he snipped. He pushed her off of his lap, and she fell onto the floor with a dull thud. She didn't seem bothered by it though; she lazily stretched out onto the rug and closed her eyes, seemingly content and comfortable on the floor. Amaranth clenched his fists at his side, but managed to contain his anger. In his weakened state, Ciardha was much stronger than him, and her mind was far more devious than his. Her cold heart was one of the many things he had admired about her before his illness, but now it had become something for him to fear. He was constantly paranoid she might use her cunning ways and newfound dominance over him to take over the kingdom. He stood up to leave.

"We found one," Ciardha called from the floor, her lilting voice stopping him in his tracks.

Amaranth stood frozen in the doorway. He whipped around and swiftly approached her.

"Are you serious?" Amaranth asked, trying not to sound too desperate in case she was toying with him.

She looked up into his eyes and replied, "Completely." He was surprised by the softness of her eyes as she spoke these words. Perhaps he had misjudged her intentions.

"And she can cure me?" Amaranth asked carefully, reluctant to get his hopes up.

"She's one of the best," Ciardha assured him. "And she's beautiful."

Amaranth grinned, hope blossoming in his chest; he had a chance for survival.

"Call Griffin in," Amaranth demanded.

Ciardha stood up and sauntered out of the room and returned in a few minutes with a stony faced Griffin.

"You wanted to speak to me, father?" Griffin said, politely yet coldly. Amaranth motioned for him to sit down. Griffin complied.

"I've found you a wife," Amaranth said. "She's a Harman witch and absolutely ravishing. She arrives in two days."

**Review?**


	3. Desire

**Thanks again to my wonderful Beta: TheBrightestNight. You're awesome :D**

The perfect shape of her red lips curved upwards in a secretive smile as she leaned closer to him. He cupped her face, relishing the softness of her skin and drank in the exquisite view in front of him;her cascading, mahogany colored hair twisted in angelic curls around her delicate heart shaped face, her pale skin was flawless, and her magnetic eyes were especially bright as they gazed into his. He leaned in slowly and softly pressed his lips to hers, and she hesitantly kissed him back. Her soft lips molded themselves perfectly around his, and he wanted to live in this moment forever. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him a bit more seriously for a minute, savoring the moment, before pulling back slightly.

"I didn't think I'd like this, but I do," she said, looking at him wondrously. Her eyes were shining with amazement as she discovered what she had always thought she would hate was actually exactly right for her. "You're the only guy I would feel comfortable doing this with."

Those words echoed in Damien's head as she shifted herself onto his lap and leaned in to kiss him again. The hotness of her lips against his sparked a fire inside him and he found he had to pull away before he lost all control. He needed to say something; something that he had been dying to say since the day she had saved him;

"I love you Amelia. I love you so much." His throat was hoarse with emotion, his tone pleading with her to accept how he felt about her. His heart thumped against his rib cage, his spirit flying as he finally released what he had been dying to say for three years now.

Amelia's eyes shimmered beautifully at these words, and her lips arched upwards in delight. She opened her mouth to reply and Damien felt like his heart was about to burst out of his chest. "I love—"

The beep of the alarm punctured Damien's conscience, shattering the dream, and he groaned. He had come _so_ _close_ to hearing those words come from Amelia's lips, even if it was only in dream form. He lay there for a moment, desperately trying to conjure up the magical feeling of the dream again; trying to force it to continue. He wished to pretend for a moment that she had said it. But now that he was awake, he was able to see the ridiculousness of his dream.

_I didn't think I'd like this, but I do._

_You're the only guy I would feel comfortable doing this with._

Damien snorted; like Amelia would _ever_ say those words to him. He knew there was no way that they could ever end up as a couple, but he still couldn't stop himself from feeling what he felt around her. No matter how many times he told himself to move on, he could not. He was stuck on Amelia. She had become his whole world.

The digital clock flashed the time at him; 6:30 p.m. He rolled out of bed and quickly got dressed in dark jeans and a band tee shirt and ran his fingers through his wavy black hair. He crossed the hall into the tiny bathroom and locked the door. He washed his face, and took extra time brushing his teeth, just in case; he always wanted to have fresh breath around Amelia. He took one last look at his reflection; he had been told many times he was handsome, even Amelia had admitted it once or twice.

He had smooth skin the color of coffee and dark amber eyes that were the envy of many girls. He was tall, and had a good amount of muscle. Even though he knew that his good looks meant nothing to Amelia, he could not help but wondering if the thought of being more than friends had crossed her mind at least once….

He felt his cell vibrate inside his pocket and he checked his messages; it was Amelia telling him she was here. He put his phone back into his pocket and slipped out the door, careful not to wake up his father.

As he crossed his shabby yard to where Amelia sat parked, he glanced back at his run-down house, remembering the first time he had let Amelia see it.

"_It's shitty," he said. "We only have one floor, and one bedroom. I sleep on the couch."_

_Amelia had looked at him then and said, "I don't care. I like you for you, not for your house."_

It was only later that he had learned that Amelia didn't even _own_ a house, and, that in fact, she lived in a homeless shelter.

The cold fall air bit at Damien's skin and he wished he had brought a jacket. Amelia waved at him from the car and Damien smiled at her, the dream coming back to him in bits. He climbed in the passenger seat and flashed a smile.

"How are you?" Damien asked.

"I'm good," Amelia said, her tone usually peppy. "I've also had about six cups of coffee."

Damien noted the dark circles under her eyes. She had been up all night and day. A few years ago, he would have asked why she hadn't slept. But he had learned over the years that it was best not to ask; she never gave a straight answer anyways.

"Are you okay to drive?" he asked. He put his hand over hers, preventing her from switching the car into drive.

Amelia sighed but she knew he was right.

"Maybe you'd better," she admitted. She handed him the keys and they switched places.

Amelia turned to gaze out the window and Damien knew she was deep in thought. Silence filled the car, but neither of them minded. Damien actually thought it was amazing that they could sit in each other's presence, in silence, and not feel awkward. Not a lot of people felt so comfortable with another person that they could do that.

Amelia stared at the passing scenery and reviewed the opening song she was going to perform tonight. It was a longer piece; about 10 minutes. She had labored over it all day yesterday, practicing it until she had the notes down perfectly. The tips of her fingers were calloused and her arms were sore from the intensive practice session she'd had to endure in able to perform last minute, but the two thousand dollars would make all of it worth it.

She glanced over at Damien as he was driving and ran her eyes along the familiar length of his arm. She had known him so long that she had memorized each scar, bruise and cut that littered his limbs. She felt a deep sadness pool in her stomach as she noticed the bluish black coloring of new bruises dotting his forearm. She used to ask him about where the bruises came from, but after a few years, she learned that it was better to leave them unmentioned. It only made him angry and defensive, as if she were insinuating he was weak or defenseless for pointing them out.

"Here," Damien said, his voice cutting through Amelia's thoughts. She blinked once, then, silently exited the car. Damien did the same, wincing slightly as he slammed the car door shut behind him. Amelia closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could ask him about it,but knowing that she shouldn't.

She quickly began unloading the trunk, and Damien assisted her. The night breeze nipped at their skin, and the sky was a smoky gray, the stars just beginning to shine. Amelia took a deep breath and walked confidently into the club. Damien followed behind her, silently scoping out the room. The club was dark, with blaring techno music and a bar. The room was noisy, and packed with people all younger than 20. Damien accidentally locked gazes with a curvy, woman with flame-colored hair in a light blue dress sitting near the bar. She gave him a sultry smile and her eyes raked over his body. Damien shivered, fear sinking in the pit of his stomach. He broke the eye contact, and his eyes continued scanning the room. In the far corner, he recognized a blonde girl from school; her name was Remi, he thought. He didn't know much about her, other than she dressed in black everyday and had a strange fascination with tattoos. She was standing in a circle of girls surrounding a tall, black haired man with a wicked grin and wintry blue eyes. Damien got the sudden impulse to storm over there and demand the girls to run away, but he stifled it. He was probably overreacting.

Amelia meanwhile had drifted away from Damien, searching the club for the man who had hired her. She needed to run the specifics of the gig by him. She hurriedly scurried across the dance floor, her arms crossed tight over her chest, pushing her way through the packed masses of bodies gyrating on the dance floor. She hated the claustrophobic feeling of the club; there was hardly any room to move without bumping into someone else.

She finally spotted the familiar blonde hair and brown-eyed man who had talked to her yesterday and approached him swiftly. He gave her a polite smile, but his eyes remained hard. He was leaning against the bar, flirting with raven-haired girl with short hair and smooth ebony skin. She smiled prettily, and brazenly wrapped his arm around her waist as Amelia approached. The man turned to face Amelia as she walked towards them, as if he could hear her coming. Amelia narrowed her eyes suspiciously. It was _really_ loud in here….

"Are you ready?" he asked, once she was within hearing distance.

Amelia glanced up at him, her expression blank. She refused to show fear, no matter how creepy he acted. "I figured you wanted to go over some stuff before I performed."

"We thought you'd like free artistic expression. You may play whatever you'd like, for as long as you'd like," he said airily. The man turned back to the woman, dismissing Amelia.

Amelia was taken aback, but wasn't about to argue; he just made her job a lot easier. She could now play a song, get paid and get out fast. She motioned to Damien from across the club, and told him the news.

Damien smile grimly, "let's get this over with and get out of here before anything weird can happen, or before they change their minds." Amelia nodded in agreement and began to set up. Damien disappeared back into the crowd, keeping his eye on Amelia from a distance.

Once everything was set up, Amelia took a deep breath and valiantly walked up on stage. Any sense of foreboding Amelia felt about performing at the club tonight had vanished in fear for her friend; they needed to get away as soon as possible. _He_ needed to get away. _We_ _were two thousand dollars away from no more bruises_, she thought, as she calmly lifted the violin up to her shoulder and began to play.


	4. Discovered

**Thank you to my Beta: TheBrightestNight**

**And i apologize that this chapter is so short. I'll post again shortly. I'm going to write the next chapter right now as a matter of fact!**

Lissa loved the snow.

There was something in the way it drifted softly to the ground from the air, like a star or angel falling from the heavens. She liked its enticing nature, the way it sparkled like tiny gems when the sunlight hit it just right.

After every snowfall, it was as if the world had started anew; the landscape was a blank slate, devoid of color. Lissa loved to walk out in the snow; it was like walking in a completely new world. Even places she knew by heart looked completely different. The cold bite of the wind made her feel alive. Her favorite part of snow, though, was its deceiving nature. It appeared at first glance to be soft and welcoming, but as you touched it, you realized it was cold and icy.

When she was younger, it had confused Lissa greatly. How could something so beautiful, something that looked so light and fluffy, like a feather, be so wet and cold? It didn't seem to make much sense. But then Lissa started to see this concept of misleading appearances in other parts of nature, particularly humans. Someone who seemed to be approachable and caring from his or her disposition _would actually turn out to be cold, as if their heart was carved out of a solid and slippery block of ice._ It was shaped like a heart, looked like a heart at first glance, but if you touched it, your hand would freeze, turn blue and fall off. It was so cold that it would suck all the heat from someone's body in less than a second, leaving them with the need to steal someone else's heat, or die from the withering ice that was growing inside.

This was how cruelness came into being, Lissa thought. It started with one person. All the rest are only trying to replenish their heat. Most people are not apt to share heat willingly, for it is a precious thing to have, so they're left with no option but to take it forcefully. But what if people started to offer up their heat to those who needed it? What if people started to share? Lissa thought it would make a huge difference. It was because of this reasoning that Lissa had always tried her best to be kind to others, even if they were less than kind to her. The crueler a person was, the more kindness they needed to heal.

Lissa sighed, and opened the window. The frosty winter air brushing against her cheek made her shiver, her skin pricking with goose bumps. She slowly reached her fingers outside, and watched as the small, crystal white flakes fell upon her hand. Her hands were hot from the warmth of the fire in her room, and the snowflakes fizzled against her skin. The cold water from the melted flakes trickled down her palm and onto her arm, like a miniature river. Lissa thought it was beautiful.

"Lissa!" her mother's voice pierced her reverie, and Lissa heard her footsteps approach her door. She heard her _mother_ enter behind her. "Lissa, we need to talk." Her mother's voice sounded grim. A chilly breeze whistled through the window, making an ominous sound. Lissa shut the window, and turned around.

"Is something wrong?" She soon realized that it was a pointless thing to ask. Her mother's expression told her all she needed to know; yes, something was wrong, something was very wrong.

Her mother nodded solemnly. "Someone very bad has discovered our secret. They know what you are."

Lissa tensed and she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. "How did they…?" she trailed off. She swallowed hard, then she asked in a trembling voice. "Is there anything we can do?"

Her mother nodded. "Prince Amaranth has promised silence in exchange for you."

Lissa froze, her mind racing. "Me…? Why would he want me?" Her hands were shaking hard now, her voice unsteady with fright.

"He promised you would be safe," her mother said, "and that's all that's important. You'll be leaving tomorrow morning. It'd be best if you pack tonight."


	5. Trapped

**Disclaimer: LJ Smith owns the NW, but these are my original characters and plot. **

**Thank you to my Beta: TheBrightestNight. You're wonderful **

**Also, if you don't remember Matt and Ryan they were mentioned in the first chapter. **

The pulsating colored lights in the club created a lively party atmosphere and Amelia was glad the piece she picked to perform was faster paced and modern. As she struck the last note, Amelia felt relief wash over her. She had finished her performance, nothing bad had happened, and now she and Damien had two thousand dollars.

_Sometimes taking risks is worth it_, Amelia thought to herself with a smile. She hopped off the stage, glad that she did not have to pack up anything but her violin—the club had provided everything else—and hurried off to find Damien, Matt and Ryan. Damien was sitting in the back corner, as far away from the dance floor as possible, while Matt and Ryan were by the bar flirting with long-legged girls who looked at least four years older than them. Amelia rolled her eyes, figuring they _would_ be trying to score instead of looking out for suspicious behavior as they were supposed to be doing.

Damien sighed in relief as Amelia approached him. "Let's go," he said anxiously, "this place is giving me the creeps. Matt and Ryan said they would find their own ride home, so we don't have to wait for them."

Amelia nodded in agreement. "Where's the exit?" She scanned the room, looking for the door they entered through. She could not find it.

Damien furrowed his brow in confusion and his eyes searched the room for the door they entered through. However, he also could not find it. They were in a club with no doors.

Amelia's heart raced faster, her head spinning. "This isn't possible. We entered through a door."

Damien was just as panicked and bewildered as Amelia was. "I know! Maybe it's being blocked by people, and we just can't see it from this angle?" There was a desperate edge to Damien's voice. Amelia nodded feverishly, taking deep breaths to prevent herself from hyperventilating. She was claustrophobic, and being in a room with no doors was one of her worst nightmares.

Damien glanced at Amelia, observing the beads of nervous sweat glistening on her forehead, and the slight tremble in her hands, and remembered her once saying she was claustrophobic. He quickly suppressed his own anxiety and calmly took Amelia's hand.

"Come on," he said gently. "Let's go look over there. The door has to be in here somewhere. There's no such thing as disappearing doors."

Amelia nodded, her eyes wide like a child's. Damien had never seen her look so vulnerable. He lightly tugged on her hand, and led her through the crowd.

Amelia followed Damien, watching his tall frame carve a path for her to walk through. Amelia couldn't help from studying the people around her, her imagination weaving their stories in her head. Her eyes skimmed over a tall, attractive girl with a scar on her left cheek.

_Where did that scar come from?_she thought vaguely

Amelia envisioned that it was from an epic battle—it had to be. People were vain. No one would give up their pretty demeanor unless it was for something dear to their heart. She looked at her again. Her eyes were drawn to the woman's left hand, where there was a thin tan line of where a ring used to be on her third finger. Amelia smiled sadly. Maybe the woman got that scar defending her now lost lover.

"Amelia?" Damien's soft voice cut through her daydream, bringing her back to earth. "Amelia, I think we need to ask someone for directions. Stay right here, I'll be right back."

"Wait," Amelia tightened her grip on his hand, not letting him leave. "You couldn't find the door?"

Damien looked her in the eye. "No, I didn't." Although his tone was calm and free of worry, Amelia could see stress brewing behind the depths of his deep brown eyes.

Amelia nodded tightly, forcing herself to stay calm and collected. "I'll wait here."

Damien took off through the crowd, shouldering his way through the tightly packed dancers. He suddenly felt a firm grip on his shoulder, someone's nails digging hard into his skin. Damien whipped around, his fist clenched and ready to make contact with his violators jaw but stopped himself once he saw who it was.

She was short, pretty, and curvy with pale skin and white blonde hair that glimmered slightly as if someone had dusted it with shimmer. Her eyes were a pale violet, her lips full and lush. Damien felt something stir in his stomach. She was absolutely beautiful, and he felt entranced.

He dropped his fist, his mind becoming clouded. He heard her murmuring something under her breath to him, but her words washed through his mind without them registering. He felt calm, and sleepy. His lids felt heavy, and they slowly closed as his breathing slowed. He felt himself drift away into a deep slumber, and his body crumpled to the ground.

The last thing he remembered was the cool touch of the girls hand on his neck, and a man's voice laughing.

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